Off the Grid
by ruth baulding
Summary: During the Clone Wars, the boys must leave the beaten track in order to avert disaster. Along the way, they make an unwilling ally, take up a new sport, and leave behind a huge mess.
1. Chapter 1

**Off the Grid**

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Somewhere in deep rift space, rimward of Shili and nestled between the galaxy's lazily spiraling arms, a small dense star suddenly popped out existence. It had no inhabitable planets in its orbit, it was not bright or beautiful enough to have ever been included in some far-flung civilization's constellation charts, and even its final moments were unimpressive. It simply imploded upon itself, its gravitational mass contracting to a singularity. No supernova, no glorious transmutation into star-shards and striating bands of fantastic light. Nothing – just a black hole.

The only being who witnessed the star's demise was the CIS tactical droid TX88. The star's death did not fill TX88 with any degree of melancholy or inspire him with any philosophical reflections – because he wasn't programmed for these inconvenient anthropomorphic quirks. Instead, he rubbed his blunt metallic hands together and immediately began calculating the effect of the gravitational disturbance on outlying hyperspace routes.

"Ha ha ha," he laughed, a peculiarly flat emotionless sound. His programmers _had_ found it expedient to provide him with a modicum of pleasure-response. He was designed solely and simply to function as an independently operating strategist on lonely and boring outposts belonging to the Separatist Confederacy. Droid cybernetic pathways imitated the complex and essentially unpredictable nervous systems of living beings; and everyone knew that a person (albeit an artificial one) was _best_ at what he truly enjoyed doing.

The sight of all seventeen Republic controlled hyperlanes which passed through the affected sector falling inevitably into disuse over the next three months – a calculation allowing for the standard irregularities and the Reeshak differential – really got his pleasure motivators going. "Ha ha ha," he cackled.

In one hundred fourteen days, he estimated, things were going to get busy out here. In five months, the Republic intelligence network, driven by sheer desperate necessity, would guess that he and his secret outpost were out here. In five months, three days and eleven standard hours – he estimated – he would have _Jedi_ visitors.

"Ha ha ha ha," he chortled again.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker leaned far out over the safety railing which rimmed the topmost spire of the space traffic control tower at Chancellor Palpatine Intergalactic Spaceport. The maintenance platform was strictly off-limits; a warning placard behind him said _Authorized Personnel Only_ in Basic and a dozen other languages. He grinned, noting that Huttese was not among those languages. Hutts didn't bother with beaurocratic nonsense like warning signs. On a Hutt world, if you weren't _authorized personnel,_ you got shot. Problem solved.

The cool late morning air stirred the hem of his cloak and whipped at his long hair. He could see all the way to the slightly curved horizon – kilometer upon endless thousands of kilometers of city, stretching away in a horizontal plane as far as the eye could see. But he wasn't interested in Coruscant's horizontal plane today. Nope….he was here to glory in the freedom of the third dimension.

He loved flying.

And he loved what he was watching now. It was Padme who had put him onto it – inadvertently, of course. She had complained this morning of a sub-sub-committee in the Senate, some group of busybodies who wanted a ban on everything fun. Not that Padme had seen it quite that way. They wanted a ban on pod racing, a ban on cage fighting, a ban on sky sailing…you name it. Oddly enough, Padme hadn't really seen his point of view during the ensuing debate. But she was beautiful when she was angry, so it didn't matter – and she had gone so far as to mention that some people were "idiots" enough to skysail over the spaceport.

So when she had huffed off to her important Senatorial business, he had nipped over here to take the edge off his loneliness…and to check out the _idiots._

They were having fun. Good old fashioned, harmless fun. A skysail was basically a length of flexible plastifiber with a handhold set in the leading edge. A flimsy harness attached the sailer underneath. Depending on the angle of the sail, he could float like a hunting thranctill, drop like a stone, or soar and swoop and dive and roll. The thermal updrafts from the cooling hulls and starship engines made the perfect playground for the sport. Right now, a couple intrepid youngsters (that's how he thought of them – though they were his same age) were playing Flinch; they dove off a high repulsor sled overhead and plummeted a thousand meters in wild freefall before pulling up at the last moment and skimming along the long landing strips used for cruisers and heavy freighters.

Anakin leaned a little further out over the edge of the railing, feeling the pull of gravity just begin to overbalance him. It was tempting to let go, to just let himself drop gracefully over the edge and fall all the way to a Force-cushioned landing on the tarmac below.

A security swoop pulled up, blue lights flashing. "Hey! Hey! Sir! Get away from the edge!" The officer's voice, taut with fear, snapped at him. Anakin glared at the unwelcome intruder. Couldn't this guy see that he was a Jedi?

The well-intentioned policeman edged the swoop a little closer. "Look…easy now…whatever your problems are, there's always a better solution than this. No need to jump, now." He held out an arm, ready to stop the would-be suicide from a precipitous fall.

"I'm fine," Anakin growled at the solicitous nincompoop. He had missed the outcome of the sky-sailing contest. Other police speeders were moving in on the participants, breaking up the fun, sending people home with a stern warning or a fat citation.

The officer accosting him finally noticed the lighhtsaber hilt hanging at the young man's side. "Oh…my apologies, master Jedi. I thought – see, we get a couple o' jumpers here every month, you know. Makes me nervous."

"No trouble," Anakin replied sullenly, only somewhat mollified.

"Can I give you a lift?" the man asked, clearly anxious to reestablish cordial relations.

"No thanks," the young Jedi smirked. "I'll take the short cut." He gripped the railing with both hands, vaulted himself up into a handstand and back-flipped off the edge into a swan dive. He thought he could hear the man's muffled shriek of horror over the rushing wind.

The wind screamed in his ears, his body accelerated harder and harder toward sudden and certain death, his heartbeat picked up…he heard himself laugh with joy. _I'm crazy,_ he thought abstractedly, even as he summoned the Force, summoned it and pulled it out the power of his headlong fall, out of the howling, rushing air, out of the thrumming in his veins, and pushed against the ground rising so insanely fast to meet him. Harder – harder –

He landed in a crouch, with a little jolt to his spine and knees. But nobody needed to know about that. Breathing deep in satisfaction, letting the adrenaline slowly subside, he rose to his full height. The comlink on his belt was insistently buzzing. Casually he hit the receive button. "Skywalker."

"Anakin!" a clipped, impatient voice chided him. "Where are you?" That was Obi Wan, sounding a wee bit aggravated. "Dare I ask what you are doing?"

"Right now, master? I just finished falling off a very, very tall building. Why?"

But Obi Wan didn't seem amused by the flip answer. "Really? I don't suppose you remembered about the _briefing_ scheduled for this morning?"

"Oh." In truth, his few brief hours with Padme and the excitement of the sky-sailing demonstration had driven all thought of it from his mind. "I guess I'm running a little late. When does it begin?"

"Five minutes ago," Obi Wan growled. "The Council will be waiting eagerly for the moment when you deign to grace us with your presence."

_Poodoo! _Anakin cursed silently. "Master-" But Obi Wan had already cut off the transmission. Typical – he always had to have the last word and he never listened. That was just how he was.

"Not your Padawan anymore," Anakni grumbled, looking around hastily for the nearest air taxi, and wondering if he had enough credits on his person to bribe the driver into taking a few illegal shortcuts.

* * *

><p>The shimmering holoprojection of the galaxy slowly rotated in mid air, suspended in the darkness od a circular tower room. Amid the map's glimmering points of light, somewhere rimward of Shili and nestled between the galaxy's lazily spiraling arms, a small blue dot of light suddenly popped out of existence.<p>

"There is the new imploded star nucleus," the deep, measured voice of Jedi Master Plo Koon boomed into the silence. A small blip and the projected map rearranged itself to display the affected area in closer magnification. Red and green lines arced between star systems, designating terminal points of hypersapce lanes. "As you can see," Master Plo continued, "The resulting gravitational disturbance has disrupted every jump point in the sector. The arm-to-rim transit is effectively destroyed until the nucleus stabilizes."

There was a stirring of dark robed figures around the observation balcony rimming the glittering star map. What members of the Jedi Council were still present on Coruscant, and a few other Knights and Masters, had gathered here to witness the imploded star's last unkind legacy: the destruction of certain key hyperlanes which might upset the balance of a war the Republic was already in grave danger of losing.

"But surely this development cripples the Separatists as badly as it does us," Obi Wan Kenobi pointed out.

Next to him, the diminutive Yoda rapped his gimer stick against the marble inlaid floor. "Never so simple is it," he reminded the younger Jedi.

"Indeed," Ki Adi Mundi put in. "It would appear the Confederacy has alternative routes which pass through uncharted space near the Triburon Ghost Nebula." A web of yellow and orange lines appeared in the projection field, a series of long cuts around the black hole's area of influence. "These are calculated and purely theoretical routes provided by our own best celestial navigators."

"That's impossible," Mace Windu asserted. "Every one of those routes posits an unbroken jump far in excess of what even a supercruiser can handle. There's nowhere to revert and refuel out there. Republic intelligence has been combing the entire sector for months." Mace's tunic shone faintly in the reflected light of the map.

"Impossible?" Yoda huffed. "Foolhardy words, where Dooku is involved," he reprimanded his colleague.

A door hissed open to admit a tall figure dressed in unrelieved black. A stir of annoyance flitted around the broad chamber.

"Masters," Anakin Skywalker said, striding up to the railing surrounding the map. "Forgive my tardiness."

"By all means," Obi Wan replied flatly, as the young Knight found a place directly beside him. "I was beginning to wonder if you got my message," he added, sotto voce.

Anakin glared at his former mentor, even though the darkness concealed his expression. He knew the other Jedi would feel the look through the Force. "Did I miss anything important?" he whispered.

"Of course not. We would never discuss weighty matters without your input."

Acid was practically dripping off Obi Wan's words. Annoyed, Anakin noted that Yoda, standing serenely on Obi Wan's other side, had overheard the exchange and was chuckling quietly to himself. _That's right…._ the young Jedi thought. _Tell that upstart Skywalker to go jump off a high building…_

"For stars' sake, Anakin, now that you've managed to arrive, do at least pay attention," Obi Wan hissed.

"I'm _sorry,"_ Anakin growled back.

"Nonetheless," Ki Adi was saying to the assembly, "The Separatist navy has somehow managed to utilize one or more of these hyperlanes. They have a means of access through this sector which our fleets do not."

"And that opens up the Mid Rim in the sector to imminent attack. Our response time would be greatly delayed," Mace concluded grimly.

"They have a refueling station out there somewhere," Anakin stated confidently. He could feel Yoda's gimlet eyes slide sideways to consider him.

"So sure are you, young Skywalker?" he asked, in that infuriating way of his.

"There are no inhabitable systems in that quadrant, and long run scanner sweeps have revealed no energy signatures matching something of that size," Mace Windu said dubiously.

"It's there," Anakin insisted, feeling his cheeks flush at Mace's implied criticism. "If you sent me out there, I could find it," he added on impulse. Because it was true, no matter what Master Windu might think.

"Hmmmm," Yoda mused. "What thinks the Council about this suggestion?"

"We know little about the Triburon Ghost Nebula. It is considered uncharted space," Ki Adi replied. "Even th archive records are limited on the subject."

"True," Plo Koon agreed. "It may be necessary to seek out unconventional sources of information."

"Less reliable intelligence sources have hardly worked to our benefit in this war," Mace Windu pointed out heavily.

"Yet they are sometimes all we have," Obi Wan gently reminded him. "And we have no time to spare. Dooku could launch an attack on the Mid Rim at any moment. We _must_ find and shut down that refueling station."

Anakin glanced over at his former teacher, suddenly feeling much less resentful. _Now_ they were talking.

"Shut down?" Yoda repeated. "Aggressive is this action you propose, Master Kenobi."

But Obi Wan wasn't in a mood to back down. "Yes, master…but we must defend the Mid Rim. Quickly and decisively. I will go to the Triburon sector and discover how the Separatists are making their transit. If there is indeed a station out there, it must be destroyed."

Ypda sighed. "Dangerous is this undertaking, but unavoidable. Take young Skywalker with you. Perhaps together our enemies you can outwit."

"Yes, master. We will proceed without delay."

"May the Force be with you." Mace Windu dismissed them with the traditional words of parting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Off the Grid**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Anakin strode through the interior entrance to the Jedi Temple's south facing docking bay to find Obi Wan already waiting for him inside a no-frills two passenger air speeder. He hopped over its side into the empty seat, sighing because any trip in which he was not the pilot was bound to be tedious.

"Ahsoka's pretty mad at you, master. She says it isn't fair to leave her behind. I think she took it as a personal insult."

"She'll recover, I have no doubt,"Obi Wan replied blandly. "This mission is no place for a junior Padawan. We're headed for Separatist controlled space with little or no chance of back-up and a very narrow margin of error."

"Just you and me, like old times," Anakin grinned.

"Something like that, yes," Obi Wan smiled briefly as he lifted the speeder off the docking pad and into the busy streams of Coruscant air traffic, heading for the Garlarb district's busy mercantile center, thirty nine districts distant from the Temple precinct.

"You really think Dex is gonna know anything about that region of space?" Anakin asked as they approached CoCo town, where a greasy-spoon establishment known as Dexter's Diner served up fast food to a constant throng of hungry customers.

"I do. The Triburon Ghost Nebula was a famous tibanna mining operation before Subterrel eclipsed it a few decades ago. And Dex has all sorts of mining and prospecting connections. In fact, they are second only to his illegal weapons-running connections."

"And his _indigestion _connections," the young Jedi quipped. "You ever actually _eat_ at Dex's place?"

"Once," Obi Wan replied darkly.

"That's what I thought. Tell you what. If he's got even a sliver of useful information about Dooku's new hyperlanes, I will personally eat a whole house special."

"A foolish bet," his friend answered dryly. "Suicide is not the Jedi way."

But as it turned out, Anakin was spared a close encounter with food poisoning. Dexter Jettster claimed ignorance.

"I ain't never heard of anyone _jumpin' _through there," he rumbled, both pairs of enormous hands spread out before him. "Used to be, ya would hitch a ride on one of them minin' barges out from the Rim – might take upwards of three weeks on sublight drives, but way safer fuelwise – an' then ya did a bit o' prosepctin' out there an' catches a ride back on the next slow shippin' transport. Whole show might take months – but then, in those days, ya could get good an' stinkin' rich on a lucky trip." He chuckled, a wet rolling sound deep in his throat, and his reptilian eyes squinted shut with mirth.

"Yes, well, months and weeks is not an efficient time frame for moving large military transports," Obi Wan remarked.

"And you're _sure_ there's no worlds out there besides gas proto-planets?" Anakin insisted.

"Tha's right," Dex asserted, his throat sack waggling as he shook his head. "Ain't even a proper star system, really – just globs o' dust and gas balls, stars and star stuff scattered everywhere. Makes a real pretty sight at night, though. An' there's plenty o' dead junk floating around – asteroids an' such. No atmosphere, mind ye."

"But, Dex…you told me that some prospectors staked a claim and stayed out there for decades," Obi Wan frowned. "Where did they _live?"_

Dex leaned back in the booth, causing the table between them to creak as his enormous belly squeezed against its edge. "Tha's a trade secret, Obi Wan ol' buddy," the Besalisk grinned. His twin rows of discolored sharp teeth were oddly at variance with the sassy chrome décor of the Diner, and Dex's own dumpy, grease stained cook's apron. "You wouldn't ask me to give away _sacred lore,_ now would ya? – you bein' a Jedi and all."

Anakin glanced from Dex's guarded, half-smiling face to Obi Wan's expression of polite indifference.

The Jedi master raised an eyebrow. "Of course not, Dex. I'm only trying to save the entire Mid Rim from imminent invasion. I would never ask you to violate your principles for such a trivial cause."

The Besalisk slammed four hands down on the table in exasperation, upsetting the salt and pepper shakers and sending a pile of menus sliding to the floor. "Blast you, Obi Wan, you sly dog! Yer always puttin' me on the spot!"

The Jedi righted the mess with two subtle motions of his hand, and looked Dex in the eyes. "I'm sorry, my old friend, but we are at _war._"

"I know that!" Dex snapped, leaning forward again conspiratorially. "All right…they lives on the asteroids, see? Off the grid is how most people out there want it to be. Don't want interference in their lives. An' that includes any Jedi come snoopin' around. If I gave ya the name of somebody I used to know out there…"

"I understand," Obi Wan assured him. "We won't be subject to a warm welcome, nor likely to receive any degree of cooperation."

"More likely shoot first and ask questions later," Dex corrected him.

"We're used to that," Anakin smiled.

The two Jedi left the Diner a few minutes later, armed with a name and the coordinates of an asteroid field near the edge of the Triburon Ghost Nebula, as well as a to-go box of freshly prepared extra-spicy sliders as a peace offering for Anakin's disgruntled Togruta Padawan, Ahsoka Tano.

"These ought to cut her down to size," Anakin commented, setting the already grease-saturated box on the speeder's floor beside his feet.

Obi Wan rolled his eyes. "I never had much success in teaching that particular lesson," he said pointedly.

"And a good thing, too," his former apprentice replied. "You need me in high spirits – it's a tough job keeping an eye on a wayward senior like you."

Obi Wan fixed him with a fulminating look.

"Don't be touchy, master. It's true. You've got gray hairs coming in all over the place."

"I wonder why," Obi Wan muttered sardonically.

The speeder flitted through the busy traffic lanes, wending its way back to the sprawling Temple precinct. It was time for the Jedi to be on their way to the edge of the known galaxy.

* * *

><p>Obi Wan dropped his Delta starfighter, snug inside its hyperdrive ring, back into realspace at precisely the coordinates Dex had so begrudgingly given him back on Coruscant. He sat at a point within spitting distance of the Triburon Nebula; indeed, the whole viewport was filled with a lurid curtain of stars and gases, and a string of asteroids floated in lazy procession around the nearest planet, a seething cloud of gases that seemed to spin on its own blurry axis. A proto-planet, little more than a noxious storm cloud with enough gravitational mass to attract a small crowd of satellites.<p>

The astromech droid, secure in its forward socket, burbled and bleeped a warning, which appeared in translation on the interface screen.

"Yes, I see it," the Jedi grumbled, warily eyeing the hyperdrive's fuel gauge. Just shy of half-depleted. They had plotted their last jump from Ord Tevlon, a bit outside Ansion. Even with the rings stripped down to almost nothing and the fighters relieved of torpedoes and missiles, the lengthy journey had taken them to the limit of their capability. They were, practically speaking, outside the known galaxy. The hyperdrive rings were designed for shorter intragalactic journeys, not what amounted to deep space exploration. But a larger vessel – even a light yacht – would likely draw undue attention if there were any Separatist scouts lurking in the veils of gas ahead. So here they were, in the middle of nowhere, with just enough fuel to make it back to the edge of civilization in one piece.

Next to him - almost on top of him, by navigational standards – Anakin's fighter abruptly reappeared, popping back into sight from the numinous otherworld of hyperspace.

"When I said _stay on my tail,_ I did not mean plan for a collision," Obi Wan snapped into the ship-to-ship comm. The device linked both pilots, as well as their respective astromechs.

"Shut up, R2," Anakin grumbled to his own co-pilot, in response to a string of snide whistles and beeps. Then, "Watch out! We've got company!"

Biting back a curse, Obi Wan checked the external active scanners. Sure enough, an automated droid magnafighter was fast approaching from a portside vector. The computer began rapidly predicting trajectories and calculating firing ranges, but he knew through the Force, with the certainty of honed instinct, that they had less than ten seconds.

"Drop the rings and distract them," Anakin barked.

"I agree." Obi Wan detached his own fighter and swooped forward, leaving the vulnerable ring behind. The destruction of their hyperdrive rings would truly strand them out here. The droid fighter predictably locked on to the new moving targets and gave chase, streaking after the Jedi as they raced for the nebula's edge. The magnafighter was fast – equal to the Deltas, even with their state of the art speed and maneuverability – and much more heavily armed.

"Head into the asteroid field," Obi Wan ordered, sensing Anakin beginning to veer off, potentially into an attack position. "We'll split up and take it by surprise."

"Good idea, master. You're the bait," the younger Jedi calmly agreed.

"I'm _always_ the bait," Obi Wan complained, accelerating hard and dodging around the first of the tumbling rocks. Some were as large as small planetoids, others no bigger than his ship. The droid fighter rocketed after him, almost within firing range. He felt Anakin close by, dancing through the asteroids alongside him and the droid, playing a deadly game of hide and seek among the tumbling frozen rocks. The Jedi swerved and rolled and skimmed through impossibly tight spaces, weaving through the space flotsam in an erratic death-defying pattern…but the hunter doggedly followed, occasionally sending a jet of plasma into an obstacle to blow it out of its pathway. Steadily it gained headway and then opened fire in earnest, adding to the peril of the chase. Bright spears of laser fire and randomly spinning shards of rock blasted apart by them made the moving maze more complex than ever.

The astromech aboard Obi Wan's ship issued a shrill protest as a bolt glanced off their starboard shields.

"I _hate _flying," the Jedi grumbled through clenched teeth, rolling to avoid another near miss from the droid and then dodging to starboard as a hunk of superheated mineral came hurtling at them out of nowhere.

"You hate everything fun," Anakin barked over the comm..

"You're certainly taking your time!" Obi Wan snapped back.

"I can't get a fix on him – you're flying like a drunken bantha, master. Help me out here, would you?"

"Help you? I'm the _bait, _Anakin!"

"Well, look wounded, then. Pretend he hit you." The young Jedi's voice was taut with concentration.

"What?" Obi Wan seized the yoke and pulled his agile fighter up and over a suddenly looming crater-pocked asteroid. The hull shuddered as he dove again, avoiding the next annihilating blast from his relentless foe. "Anakin…"

"Okay. See that chunk of rock over there? Lure him over there and I'll take care of him."

Obi Wan breathlessly jinked and flipped his fighter again, squeezing between two careening rocks with no room to spare. The droid predator behind him blew the chunks of icy mineral into fiery smithereens and pursued him, cannons blazing.

"What asteroid?" Obi Wan shouted in frustration. "There are millions of the blasted things out here!"

Anakin grinned, exhilarated as much by his mentor's aggravation as by the thrill of reckless speed. Not that Obi Wan could _see_ the boy's expression – but he could _feel_ it in the Force, confound the cocky young fool.

"R2, help him out," Anakin's voice was saying now. "Lock R4 on target."

"No, Anakin, no!" But it was too late. The infinitesmal delay in timing caused by the astromechs' exchange of remote navigational instructions was just enough to break Obi Wan's concentration. He felt the ship slip out of his Force-enhanced awareness and control for the briefest half-second, felt his co-pilot hastily adjust and revert the helm to full manual, and then felt the violent jolt as a blaster clipped his wing – not hard enough to penetrate the shields but hard enough to send him spinning.

"Hell's moons," he growled, heart stopping in mid-beat as he wrestled the fighter back under control, missing the next two asteroids by a margin he did not dare to contemplate.

He reached through the Force to sense the approach of his enemy…_Wonderful. _Two missiles right up his tailpipe. He cut the thrusters and pulled straight up, causing R4 to scream in consternation and the two seeker missiles to overshoot him in a roar of fury.

The Delta groaned and warning lights appeared all over console. Ignoring these, he came round to follow the droid – only to nearly collide with Anakin, streaking in from behind at a suicidal velocity, pumping the magnafighter full of plasma bolts with unnerving accuracy and aggression. The seeking missiles curved round and Anakin shot them down too, narrowly avoiding an asteroid as he dove in a long loop to finish off the droid fighter. The downed ship blossomed into fire and began a spiraling descent into the nearest gravitational field – that of a moon-sized asteroid dead ahead.

"Nice work, master," the young Jedi chirped happily over the comm.. "It looked just like he really hit you."

"He _did _really hit me. Can we please play something different now?"

"If you insist. Land straight ahead. If we're lucky, there might be something left of that droid fighter after the crash."

"Then let's hope we're lucky. It may give us a clue as to its origins. I'm guessing a Separatist refueling station."

* * *

><p>CIS tactical droid TX88 watched the inglorious end of the advanced security patrol drone with absolute detachment. Sympathy and regret were, after all, among the response parameters intentionally omitted from his programming. He noted that the fighter had crashed on an insignificant asteroid mass in the outer Triburon field, and then quickly recalculated his strategy based on the data he had gleaned from the dogfight. He came to several swift, certain decisions.<p>

First, he concluded that the two small craft which had triggered the outlying security net alarm and sent the drone into action must have been piloted by Jedi. The Republic insignia and transponder codes were the first obvious indications. The presence of humanoid life forms aboard both vessels was relayed by the drone itself; but the astounding speed and accuracy with which the fighters had traversed the asteroid field meant that these were no ordinary human pilots, even well-trained ones. The response timing of these humans had been 92.6 percent accurate – almost as good as a droid. That could only mean Jedi. They were, TX88 noted, 26.4 standard hours ahead of hs projected timeline – but then, they hadn't actually located him yet, had they?

Second, he concluded that these two Jedi were exceptionally rash and self-confident even for members of their type. There was no other likely explanation for their arrival in such flimsy, under-armed vessels without clones or back-up. A bold clandestine mission, no doubt. He carefully stored away these data for future reference.

His third conclusion, calculating a risk differential of eight percent, was that when the two Jedi did eventually show up on his doorstep, he would be more than ready for them.

"Ha ha ha ha ha," he laughed out loud. TX88 really, really enjoyed his job.


	3. Chapter 3

**Off the Grid**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

"As always, Anakin, you've left behind a big mess."

"It's not pretty, is it?"

The two Jedi starfighters sat side by side on the dusty surface of the large asteroid, surveying the damage wrought upon the droid fighter by Anakin's well-placed barrage of shots and the resulting high speed impact. The hull had been crushed into a mangled ball, both sides torn wide open, spilling entrails of sparking circuits. Anakin shuddered: here lay another piece of precision engineering brought to utter ruin at his hands.

"I'm not sure there's much left to investigate. I doubt the computer system survived that crash," Obi Wan sighed from the safety of his fighter's cockpit. Outside, there was no atmosphere to speak of; small dust devils danced slowly in the thin, unbreathable layer of gas that clung to the planetoid like ephemeral cob-webbing.

"I dunno. We should let Artoo have a go at it. Maybe the transponder box is intact. We might be able to salvage a security code or last-launch coordinates."

"Either one would be well worth the effort," Obi Wan agreed, running a hand thoughtfully over his beard. "Very well. While you see what you can turn up here, I shall go pay a call on Dex's mysterious friend. He lives a hop, skip, and a jump away."

"Assuming this isn't a wild bantha chase."

"Dex has never let me down yet," the other Jedi replied, reengaging the Delta's repulsors and gently rising a few meters off the surface. "I'll contact you the moment I find anything – or anyone." In a few moments his ship had curved around the close horizon of the tiny asteroid, leaving Anakin to his own task.

"You heard him, Artoo. Get going with the autopsy."

Obediently, the little blue and silver astromech hoisted itself out of its wing socket and landed on the grey dust. Rolling forward to the fallen magnafighter's crumpled bulk, R2D2 extended a computer interface arm and looked for a port accessible to his limited height and reach. He whistled forlornly as he set about work.

"Don't worry," Anakin assured his mechanical companion. "It's better than looking for some cranky old prospector who doesn't want any visitors."

* * *

><p>The reclusive prospector's hideaway did not prove difficult to locate. Here in the desolate asteroid field, the single life form who chose to eke out his existence in the middle of cold, swirling nowhere stood out in the Force like a glow-moth in a darkened forest. Obi Wan guided his fighter over the lonely expanse of an ovoid asteroid mass, following this invisible beacon unerringly to its source.<p>

An atmospheric dome rose from the uneven terrain ahead. The artificial bubble was large enough to house a small pre-fab homestead and enough fungoid trees to recycle and regenerate the oxygen supply in a never ending cycle. A few hydroponic crops grew in a reinforced greenhouse within the dome, and some sort of fowl pecked about the soft trunks of the micoarbor. However simple, the prospectors' home was a self-sustaining microcosm.

A double airlock barely large enough to accommodate the fighter was attached to one side of the curving structure. The outer opening slowly rolled open to admit him, idling on repulsors, into the small bay. As the outer door sealed and the lock pressurized, Obi Wan spotted a tall humanoid figure striding out of the squat dwelling toward the inner airlock hatch. Almost two meters tall, the graying and weather-beaten man presented a rough appearance: battered old-fashioned Corellian clothing, two utility belts crossed over his hips, a beaten sun hat (though there was no sun to speak of here, only the ambient glow of the nebula), and a double barreled blaster rifle slung over one shoulder. This person hit the access control on the inside of the dome, permitting the inner hatch to slide open.

"Well? Come on down form that ridiculous racin' pod o' yers and tell me what in the nine hells ye want," the tall man commanded, tired annoyance ringing in every syllable.

Obi Wan opened the canopy and cautiously stepped across the fighter's wing onto the dusty earth, waving a reassurance to the nervously twittering astromech in its socket.

"Well?" the homesteader demanded, leveling the rifle at his visitor's face and looking down at him critically. "How in all the damned galaxy did ye find me, Jedi? And what do ye want, eh? I _ain't_ payin' no taxes! And ye can go tell that to yer corrupt politician friends in the Core. Live free or die, that's what I say."

"An admirable sentiment. I have not come here to collect taxes," the Jedi hastened to assure him, suppressing a smile with some effort. "Jedi have nothing to do with taxes."

The rifle lowered a fraction. "Well, yer still a bunch o' hoity-toity interferin' government puppets," the prospector scoffed. "What do ye want? That's the last time I'm askin' and ye better speak up or ye'll be goin' home with a couple o' blaster bolts through yer mystical head."

It was tempting to use the Force to wrest the rifle out of its belligerent owner's hands – or better yet, to slice the thing neatly in half with his saber. Obi Wan pushed both unhelpful thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on the mission.

"I am here for information only," he said mildly.

"Oh? I ain't fillin' out no star-forsaken census forms, neither! Vape that!" The man spat on the grey dust at his feet.

"Of course you aren't," Obi Wan soothed, shifting tactics and exerting a subtle bit of mind influence on the old curmudgeon. "But you would be happy to help me out."

"The _hells_ I would!" the prospector snorted. "Yer wastin' my valuable time as it is. I got fungi to harvest, repairs to make, blast shields to put up fer the ion storm blowin' in tonight. No time to _help you out_ with yer damned government business."

So the fellow was not susceptible to mind tricks. Fine. One could always negotiate. "You have a great deal of work here to accomplish all alone. I dare say an extra pair of hands would prove useful. _I _would be happy to help with your work in exchange for information."

This proposition amused the cantankerous elder. "He he he he he," he wheezed. "So now I got me a Jedi farmhand? He he heee. You ever do a lick o' manual labor in yer life, eh? Ye _sound_ like a soft-bred blueblood to me."

Obi Wan shifted his weight impatiently. "My services until the ion storm hits, in exchange for shelter and the benefit of your hard-earned wisdom. Do we have a deal?"

The homesteader lowered the blaster rifle at long last. "Ye really able to move stuff without touchin' it?" he asked. "Heavy stuff?"

"Try me."

The old man grinned slowly. "All right. We got us a deal." Then his expression hardened again. "But I'm warnin' ye – this involves any government interference with my life an' I'll kick ye outside the dome to fend fer yerself. That little toy vehicle o' yers ain't gonna survive a class three ion storm here in the nebula, either, I can tell ye that. First bit o' wisdom for ye – free gift."

"My thanks. Ah…I should mention that I have a traveling companion. Another Jedi. He will also require shelter."

The old man turned on his heel to lead the way back into the fungus farm. "Then you better work hard enough fer two," he called over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>By the time the ion storm blew through, bombarding the asteroid field with deadly bursts of radiation, the work was complete. Fungus had been harvested and safely stowed away, the wild Florian fowl captured and secured in their pens, and the protective blast shielding repaired and raised over the dome itself. Both Jedi starfighters and their respective astromechs were sheltered beneath the protective curve of the dome, and the Jedi themselves were harbored under the roof of the prospector's simple home.<p>

The old man's mood had shifted to one of amiable hospitality as they settled in to wait out the assault. "Here, try this," he croaked, pouring amber liquid into three small glasses. "Don't know when I last had a visitor, and don't know when it might happen again. Damn pity never to share this here Munilist Moonshine. Distilled it myself, I'll have ye know. Watch it now – it's got a kick like a Kowakian monkey lizard's mother-in-law." He downed his glass in one long swig and poured himself a generous second helping. "Go on, now. Don't be shy."

Anakin shrugged and followed their host's example, only to find himself half-choking on burning liquid.

"Easy there, youngster," the weather-beaten settler grinned. "It ain't some girlie Core world beverage."

Obi Wan took a single cautious sip, solely for the sake of good manners.

"I got to admit yer a better worker than what ye look to be," the old man said gratefully, beaming at the Jedi master. "I'm getting on in years now – it ain't easy to maintain this place all by my lonesome anymore. If I could pick up stuff an' move it around with my mind, now…that would be somethin'. Don't suppose you could teach that trick to an old gundark like me, now could ye?"

"I'm afraid not," Obi Wan smiled.

"I won't be givin' away yer sacred lore, " the oldster put in. "It would be a mighty help to my old achin' joints."

But the Jedi shook his head regretfully. "There's no secret. It's simply an inborn gift. And I assure you, I know a few aging Jedi masters with stiff joints. We're not immune from the effects of time."

The prospector kicked his boots up onto the top of a nearby workbench turned dining table. The remains of their simple repast – composed mainly of fungus based foods – were scattered across the long, narrow surface. The old man downed yet another glass of Munilist Moonshine and leaned back in satisfaction. "Smoke?" he invited.

"No, thank you," the two Jedi answered in unison, without hesitation.

The settler sighed and folded his worn hands over his chest. "All right. Ye earned yer information, Jedi. Ask away. How can a lonely old feller like me help the likes o' ye?"

"It is the war which has brought us here…" Obi Wan began.

"War? Don't go telln' me there's a war on , now," the old man grumbled, outraged.

Anakin gaped. "You haven't heard about the war?" he exclaimed. "The Separatists? The clone army? Any of it?"

The prospector shook his head. "Should I?"

"Don't you watch the holonet?"

The old man sat forward, eyes blazing. "That filthy brain-rotting morass o' propaganda and bantha chizzsk entertainment? Hells, no. There won't be no holonet here – even if the service relays came out this far. I'm off the grid, boys, like I told ye. Live free or die."

Anakin caught his mentor's eye and pushed on. "So it would mean nothing to you if I told you the Separatists have a hidden refueling outpost somewhere in this sector and that unless we disable it they will launch an offensive on the Mid Rim?"

"Nope. That surely wouldn't mean a thing to me, and it ain't any o' my business anyhow." He took a meditative sip of his drink. "You fellows is supposed to be scholars and philosophers, ain't ye? Well, lemme share some wisdom I read somewheres once."

"What wisdom?" Anakin asked suspiciously.

"Don't give a chizzsk about what ye can't do nothing about," the prospector recited gravely. "What do you think of that?"

"I think it is a…slight…misquotation of Chakora Seva, who was also a Jedi master and a great warrior," Obi Wan replied evenly. "His actual words were _suffer no anxiety about that which is beyond your power. _It means that one should not allow fear and worry to overwhelm one's judgment concerning events which are outside one's control. It does not advocate indifference, or cultivated ignorance."

The settler dismissed this scholastic quibbling with a wave of his hand. "Yer war isn't my affair," he insisted. "I moved out here decades ago to escape yer damned so-called democracy and corrupt politician's squabbles. And I don't know a blasted thing about no refueling station out here. All I've ever done is a spot o' mining in the gas giants around Aurek 29 and 30. Now: if it's information about mining in the Triburon ye want to hear, that's a different story."

The Jedi exchanged a meaningful look. Anakin's earlier efforts with the destroyed droid fighter had yielded two small prizes: a security docking code and a set of last-launch coordinates originating near the protostar Aurek 29.

Obi Wan rose and refilled the oldster's glass for him.

"Thank you kindly," the man murmured.

"Perhaps you would entertain us with some stories about your mining days. I have a friend who clains that the stakes were even better on the other side of the galaxy – out by Subterrel. " Obi Wan winked at Anakin.

"What?" Their host sat up in affront, sloshing Moonshine over his unsteady hand. "Nonsense. Fools moved over there 'cause they wasn't man enough to deal with it out here. Takes a lot o' guts and know-how to make it mining one of them gas giants. Soup's toxic, even in the upper levels. Besides, tibanna, which is pretty heavy, deep down in the atmosphere, you got other funny compounds. Got to have good pressure equipment to reach the valuable stuff, but then you kick up these drafts of the nasty business. The whole top layer's nothing but ionized tritium. Blocks transmissions, scanners, you name it. If you get lost down in the lower levels, ain't nobody gonna find you unless they're damn fool enough to go lookin' fer ye in person. Nobody'd ever find you hidin' out under the top layer. In my day, smugglers used to hang out there to avoid shipping company officials, hide from other trouble too. Convenient, eh? Not many people know about that."

"I bet not," Anakin remarked. Not many, but he was willing to bet that Dooku was counted among the privileged few.

The old man chuckled. "No sir. And another secret – them gases out there is breathable all right in some of the middle levels – that's where we moored our platforms, mostly. Like a little island trapped between the heavy stuff and the tritium on top. Breathable, like I said – but here's the kicker – half the time that stuff is mixed with some odd byproducts. Hallucinogenic. Fellas would see and hear the strangest things, get up to all kinds of crazy hijinks. Too much time out there in the midlevels an' yer permananetly high as a starcruiser, ye know? Fried. Can't tell ye how many folks I seen jump off the edge thinking they could fly or running from some nightmare delusion."

"Fascinating," Obi Wan commented. "These mining platforms: were there a great many of them?"

The prospector looked at the ceiling as though making a complex mental calculation. "Maybe a few thousand in the hey-day. Don't think any are still operatin' now. But they're still out there. Too expensive to dismantle and remove, see. Easier to jist let the repulsors run down. Might take a century, but what the hells- eventually they jist fall into the soup. They say ye can fall forever into a gas giant's core. There ain't really any bottom fer ye to hit, see? Must be a handful of them old relics still hangin around in the soup out there."

Anakin nodded. "Big old pieces of junk just floating in an invisible graveyard," he muttered. "Sounds like a perfect disguise for a refueling station to me. The tritium gas jams tracking signals and scanners and provides a limitless supply of raw fuel, too."

"It would certainly explain why Republic intelligence couldn't locate any evidence of a space station in this region. They would have to _bump_ into it to find it at all."

"You two sound like you got some kind o' crazy hankerin' to go look fer yerselves," the miner laughed. "So much fer Jedi wisdom. Huh."

"Crazy or not, we need to have a closer look at Aurek 29," Obi Wan asserted. "If the only way t find that station is to bump into it, then that's precisely what we'll do. I only wonder whether our starfighters will be able to handle the atmospheric storms."

"Those tin cans?" the old man coughed. "You need a miner's tug, or a big heavy cruiser. Those little pods o' yers'll be thrown round like dry leaves. You need a real ship. I've still got my old Betsy in the barn back there," he added with a hint of nostalgia.

"Betsy?" Anakin was incredulous.

"She's as reliable as they come," the miner frowned at him. "Even though I ain't used her these ten years. They don't make ships like that anymore. She's older than either of you, easy."

"Would you be willing to loan this Betsy to us?" Obi Wan inquired.

The prospector opened his eyes wide and slammed his empty glass down on the makeshift table. "What? I may be old, but I ain't stupid and senile yet. Like as not, I loan Betsy to ye two Jedi an' I ain't never seein' her again. Bet ye fellows crash a ship a day."

"Not quite that often," Anakin said ruefully. "But fair point."

"Perhaps we can reach another agreement," Obi Wan offered. "Surely there is some other service we can render you in exchange for the use of your transport."

"Not unless one of you's a mechanical genius can fix me a busted zeta-type vaporator. That'd spare me a load o' trouble and credits."

Anakin grinned. "I'm a mechanical genius," he announced. "And it just so happens that I grew up fixing vaporators."

The old man peered at him closely. "You pulling my leg, boy?"

"No, sir."

The miner pushed his unruly wisps of hair back with both hands. "All right. But yer passengers only. Only I flies Betsy. Wherever ye go, I goes with ye."

Obi Wan shook his head. "We are headed into considerable danger."

"Not on my ship ye ain't unless I'm with ye," the miner stubbornly countered. "Take it or leave it, Jedi. It's a package deal. Me an' Betsy together or yer stuck real good in yer fancy plan."

The Jedi exchanged another long look.

"Very well," Obi Wan agreed at last. "As you say, _we got us a deal."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Off the Grid**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

"This thing is a piece of _trash_," Anakin Skywalker complained bitterly from the passenger compartment aboard the antique mining tug. He spoke in a near whisper, lest their pilot overhear. The old man sat at the helm, guiding the tug ponderously through the asteroid field and into the nebula proper.

"Yes, but she's so _reliable,_" Obi Wan reminded him dryly.

"She better be. I don't think I've ever seen a schematic for one of these things. Even in Watto's junk shop. This ship must be older even than our friend up there. Bet he scrounged it off some junkheap when _he_ was young."

"It is functional – and hopefully it will afford us an undetected entry onto that refueling station."

"Yeah," Anakin reluctantly agreed, as the miner pushed the reluctant sluggish Betsy to her full sublight capacity. The young Jedi rolled his eyes. This had to be the slowest piece of poodoo he had ever been aboard, including that disintegrating jalope of a sail barge he and Obi Wan had hijacked on Xolinth on those years ago. Betsy lurched toward the nearest proto-star and its huge, gaseous satellites like a drunken bantha.

Anakin had spent the duration of the ion storm making a few small adjustments to the miner's busted vaporator and then installing the stolen security codes into Betsy's antiquated transponder. Obi Wan had pored over their host's outdated mining holo-maps, trying to correlate the modern last-launch coordinates taken from the droid fighter with the old polar coordinate system employed by the early miners. He had concluded that the station must be located on one of the abandoned platforms near the first gas giant's equator.

As they penetrated deeper into the Triburon Ghost Nebula, marveling at the pink and gold marbling of the looming planet's ever-changing surface – or outermost layer – Obi Wan stepped forward to the console and entered the new coordinates into Betsy's simple navigation system. "The computer here doesn't seem to have an automatic recalculation feature. If that platform has drifted very far since the droid fighter departed, we will have to find it the hard way," he frowned.

"Great," Anakin griped. "I hate playing hide and seek. How many more fighters do you think they'll send out to keep us company? In case you hadn't noticed, Betsy here doesn't have any functional weapons."

"Then we must hope that transponder code you discovered works," Obi Wan told him flatly.

They dipped beneath the topmost layer of the gas giant's atmosphere, into an eerie world of pink and gold fog. "Aaaaaah," the prospectot sighed. "Makes me feel at home agin." The thick soupy gases danced and shifted around them on every side, enchanting and disconcerting. Betsy's console lit up with an old fashioned gravity compass display.

"There you are," her pilot grinned. "Keep yer eye on that, youngsters, an' ye won't get lost out here. Down's down, even in the soup."

"That's helpful. We'll know which way to fall in case we have to crash," Anakin grumbled.

"Ain't nothing to crash into," the old miner reminded him. It was true; theoretically, this planet might have no solid matter core whatsoever. And none of them was interested in verifying the question empirically.

"We should be along the equator now," Obi Wan said, leaning over the old man's shoulder as the tug dropped another few thousand meters in a long, steady descent. A storm picked up and thrashed the fog and gas into violent contortions – but Betsy did little more than shudder slightly despite the violent onslaught.

"Our trusty steed begins to prove her worth," Obi Wan commented.

"Damn right she does," the prospector agreed.

Anakin nodded. "I'd hate to take a lighter ship down through this mess, especially if we hit an electrical storm."

"Really? I would have thought that was precisely your idea of fun."

"Suicide is not the Jedi way, master."

Another thousand meters down and they left the worst of the storm behind. But at this depth, visibility beyond the cockpit was next to nothing. The miner slowed their lumbering vessel almost to a crawl, as dark twisted shapes loomed suddenly out of the thick magenta and orange clouds, like vast skeletal shipwrecks rising from a foggy sea and then sinking back again.

"Mining platforms," Obi Wan breathed, gazing out the viewport in fascination. Some of them had been colossal – cities in their own right; some were the size of large asteroids. All were mangled and bent, enormous beams and crossbeams thrusting from their ruins like strangling scarecrow hands.

"The storms must have ripped them to pieces once the shielding systems were shut down," Anakin guessed, watching the ghostly parade of derelict platforms pass by one after another. The prospector steered Betsy in a long starboard loop as another misshapen platform appeared before them, keening wildly to one side.

Obi Wan closed his eyes in concentration, blocking out the eerie spactacle. "It's nearby," he said after a moment. "There's a disturbance in the Force…straight ahead, I think."

Anakin flet the chill travel down his spine, too; the cold sense of a secret revealed. He reached over to the comm. array and began sending a pulse transmission of the security code, requesting clearance to land.

In a moment, the veils of pale color parted to reveal yet another platform – more massive, more sprawling than any they had yet seen. Alight with points of fire which were windows, operating lights, repulsor fields, shield generators, it rose in tiers about a vast tibanna processing processing plant in the very center of its lowest level. Balanced in midair like some gaudy child's top, it dwarfed Betsy to an invisible speck and sent a palpable wave of menace through the Force.

"We found it," Anakin whispered in grim satisfaction.

The old miner just stared.

* * *

><p>"Sir," one of the standard utility droids manning the communications console said. "A vessel registering the security code from our missing starfighter is requesting permission to land."<p>

TX88's motivators whirred into life. "Confirm vessel identity," he commanded from his position at the hub of the busy control center. All such information had to be made by coded signal; the tritium outside jammed visual scanners and energy readings alike.

"Identity confirmed," the droid droned. "Magnafighter 66B returning from assignment. Data files indicate 66B lost in action. Update and correct files?"

"No. Do not update files. Allow vessel clearance to land in maintenance bay four," TX88 decided.

"Incoming vessel docking in bay four," the moronic utility droid reported.

"Very good," TX88 told his pathetic underling. "Stand by for further orders," he announced to the automated crew on the deck. A chorus of _roger roger roger _rose from the droids stationed below and around him in a wide circle.

TX88 rubbed his metallic hands together. "Ha ha ha ha ha," he chuckled electronically. "Welcome, Jedi." With a cybernetic twinge of pleasure, he noted that his prediction was only 4.1 minutes shy of complete accuracy.

* * *

><p>"That was easy," Anakin grinned.<p>

"I'll be damned to the nine hells," the old prospector muttered, looking through the viewport at the maintenance bay's interior. "Who woulds thought? Now what are we doin', boys?"

"_You_," Obi Wan ordered sternly, "Are staying here, preferably in one of those smuggling hatches in the hold. If we do not return within two standard hours, take off without us and return to your home. Understood?"

The miner shook his head. "Yer as mad as a gundark, youngster. I don't run when the goin' gets tough."

The Jedi raised an eyebrow. "I thought this was none of your affair."

"It ain't," the old man sniffed. "But you ain't my boss, neither. So lay off yer haughty tone and be on yer way. I'll make my own call about when's the time to leave."

Obi Wan ground his teeth, but Anakin tugged at his sleeve and pulled him toward the exit hatch in the stern of the ship. There was no use arguing with an old coot like the prospector. He had learned that much during his years as a slave on Tatooine. Within moments, the two Jedi had dashed from the relative cover of the boarding ramp, across the polished deck of the hangar bay, and then behind a stack of utility crates. Mice droids and automated cranes and arms whirred and hummed around the mining tug's hull, clearly unsure why magnafighter 66B had returned from its aborted mission in such a different shape and size.

"That'll jam the maintenance system," Anakin observed. "They'll send someone down to look at it. Probably another droid. I don't sense anything living in this place. Do you?"

Obi Wan shook his head. "No. It's the blind leading the blind. That makes our job easier. We need to locate a schematic of this station and then determine the best way to shut the whole thing down."

"Schematics…" Anakin mused. "Wish we had brought Artoo. I don't think I can hack into a CIS database without him."

"What about one of those mouse droids?" Obi Wan inquired, stroking his beard. "Won't they have a directional map of the whole place hard-wired into their kinetic systems?"

Anakin feigned amazement. "Impressive, master. I didn't know you were so well informed about droid programming templates."

"I do have the best teacher," Obi Wan smiled back. "What about it?"

"Might work. You nab one and I'll take it apart."

Together they slipped from shadow to shadow, making for the interior entrance. Turning the corner swiftly, and pausing just inside the doors' framework, Anakin set to carving a small opening in the low ceiling of the passageway beyond while Obi Wan waited for the next mouse droid to scuttle into view around the bend in the hall. His unfortunate victim appeared promptly, zipping within a few meters of the intruders and then whirling round to beat a hasty retreat.

Too late – the Jedi lifted it off the floor with the Force and drew it into his own grasp. Then both droid-nappers leapt up into the narrow opening above.

Crouched on a support beam within the infrastructure, surrounded by venting ducts and the blinking circuit panels of a hundred different sensor and atmospheric systems, the Jedi studied their captive. The mouse droid's traction system still spun wildly, as though the thing were attempting to escape, but placed upside down on its back it had no hope of making progress.

"Like a sand turtle," Anakin remarked, fishing a microdriver and a few miniscule cybertools out of a pouch on his belt. He pried open the droid's carapace and set to work, tweaking and prodding at the simple mechanical creature's brains with his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth twisted to one side.

"Got it," he murmured, snatching a miniature holoprojector from another pocket and wiring it into the droid's processors. "There." He gave a twist to something deep inside the droid, and a shimmering map of the refueling station appeared above the projector plate, different levels and views replacing each other in rapid succession. The two Jedi studied it intently, watching the entire succession of images play before their eyes two or three times.

"Wait. Stop there." Obi Wan broke the silence. Anakin tweaked the droid's innards again, and the holomap hung suspended and unmoving before them.

"There's a generator core for the fuel processing system," Obi Wan pointed out.

Anakin gazed at the huge energy core which powered the conversion of gaseous raw tibanna into pressurized fuel. The long cylindrical core was supported by massive struts in a sub-zero temperature chamber. "We can't get in there," he objected. "And we don't have any explosives, anyway."

The older Jedi snorted softly. "After Devaron, I don't ever want to be in the same room with you and explosives again, thank you."

"That wasn't my fault!" Anakin protested. "And we got out before the _whole_ ship blew apart."

"Hm," Obi Wan replied. "I was thinking it would be easier to sabotage the cooling system for the core. The main unit will overheat, melt down, back up the pressure regulator, and…" He waved a hand expressively through the air, eyes glittering.

This time Anakin really was amazed. "That sounds like something I would come up with. Getting inside the thermo-stabilizer is dangerous . And if the reaction is fast, the back up system might seal off the corridors to contain the blast. We could be cut off. That's assuming we can damage the coolant valves without killing ourselves. The whole thing's crazy," he added in a tone of warm approval.

"On that, you'll get no argument from me. Let's go have a look at the thermo-stabilizer shaft, shall we?"

They left the mouse droid on its back, uselessly spinning its traction gears, and disappeared down the narrow crawl-way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Off the Grid**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Inside the hangar bay, the ever-reliable Betsy sat primly on her landing gear, tended to by scores of mech droids and drones, all intent on giving her the tune-up scheduled for Magnafighter 66B. Inside Betsy's triple reinforced durasteel hull, nestled comfortably in the forward pilot's seat, sat the shabby but self-assured figure of her owner. This had been quite the day already, he thought, and it wasn't half done. His new Jedi acquaintances had gone off on some damn fool's errand, leaving him here to twiddle his thumbs. Thought pretty highly of themselves, those two did. Prob'ly thought they didn't need help from nobody – at least not ordinary humble folk. Shoulda listened to his wisdom last night. _Don't go stickin' yer nose in what's beyond yer ken, and no trouble will come to ye._ He shook his head sagely, and glanced out the forward viewport again.

"Hell's moons," he cursed reverently.

What he saw took his breath away. The doors opposite him had slid open to admit a veritable phalanx of droids into the bay. Not just workers or lug droids, either. No, these were battle units. He'd seen some pretty nasty security models belonging to shipping company magnates back in the day. But nothing like these, nor in such numbers. This was a vaping army, to be sure. He remembered what the Jedi had told him about war brewing in the galaxy . Of all the -! Some were spindly mean little critters, while others were boxy and menacing. They were all armed to the teeth, maybe four or five score of them. At their head walked another odd contraption – a humanoid looking thing with a swiveling, squarish head. That thing could creep a body out worse than all the others put together. That one looked like it might be…intelligent.

The miner bolted out of his chair and headed for the smuggler's hatch in the aft of his ship. That bearded Jedi had told him to take cover if there was trouble, and he wasn't fool enough to ignore that advice now.

Crouched in the dark, stuffy confines of Betsy's smuggling hatch, the old prospector let out a few more well-chosen curses under her breath. Overhead, the tramp of metallic feet could be heard entering the ship, ringing with a hollow echo overhead as they searched the mining tug for occupants. Vaguely he wondered whether the threatening aspect of his current situation had anything to do with all those years of tax evasion.

"Sir," a soulless voice said overhead. "There are no life forms aboard this vessel."

Another voice answered – eerie, self-possessed. The miner knew without looking that this voice belonged to that weird intelligent looking droid, the leader of the others. "This vessel is not a registered Republic ship. The Jedi must have local assistance. However, I do not calculate that this fact will increase the risk potential."

What? That damned stinking metal head thought he was beneath notice as a threat? The old miner ground his teeth and muttered a few more colorful phrases under his breath. Arrogant piece of machinery, undervaluing grit and wit. He could teach it a thing or two, he reckoned.

"Where are the Jedi now, sir?" one of the minions asked.

"If they were able to acquire our security protocols and penetrate our first line defenses, they have the technical skill to infiltrate this station's infrastructure. I calculate that they will attempt sabotage.'

"What should we do with their ship?" one of the underling robots enquired.

"They will return to it if they are able. Post a guard inside. If they succeed in making it back to this location, detain them and call for back-up immediately."

"Roger roger roger roger," echoed other droids.

Inside his safe hiding spot, the prospector sat and gnawed on his lip, wondering how in the hells he was going to get out of this one alive. Then another thought occurred to him. Like as not, this Separatist revolution, or whatever it called itself, was gonna replace taxes and twaddle with something even worse, some star-forsaken tyranny yet to be dreamed of. He surely, surely wasn't about to cooperate with any of that rot. No, it was live free or die for him. In the dark, he tightened his grip around his trusty blaster rifle, making sure its firing mechanism was primed and ready, and nurtured the seeds of desperate courage.

* * *

><p>The Jedi stood outside the main thermo-stabilizer shaft leading to the core coolant system and looked at each other.<p>

"Twenty seconds between cycles," Anakin said. "That means we're in, cut the lines, and out again before the next pulse. Otherwise, we're both deep frozen."

"Twenty seconds," Obi Wan repeated grimly. "Ready?"

"Now!"Anakin slammed the access hatch open with the Force and they sprinted into the shaft opening, flying down its length to the accelerator fan banks. An internal pressure door barred their way. In his head, he counted down: thirteen, twelve…Obi Wan hit the controls; as the panel began to slide open a tremendous wind caught them in the backs and threw them against the moving durasteel slab. The air howled around them, disappearing into the widening gap in a vacuum of terrible, inexorable power. They glanced at each other in stark and wordless horror. The interior of the energy core chamber had been remotely depressurized. No living thing could survive within it. Together they closed the doors with the Force, panting in the too-thin air on their own side.

"Seven!" Anankin gasped, hauling Obi Wan upright and setting off down the shaft at top speed. They flew for their lives as the seconds counted down….five, four, three, two, one…they jumped as far and as fast as they could as the shaft suddenly reverbrated with the power of the next blast cycle, and landed sprawling in the outer corridor, pulling the hatch shut after them.

Gasping in great lungfuls of air, they staggered to their feet again. "They know we're here," Obi Wan scowled, casting a wary glance in either direction.

"What's Plan B?" Anakin demanded.

"The fuel storage tanks," Obi Wan shrugged. " – Though I imagine that will be anticipated as well."

"What about the control center?" Anakin suggested.

"Too heavily guarded. We need to stay on the lower levels if we want any hope of making it back to the ship again. If they're onto us, we haven't much time."

"Got it!" the younger man exclaimed. "We'll take out the shield stabilizers. It won't register as a problem until the next storm hits. You saw how those derelict platforms were mangled. Nature will do its job and we'll be long gone before they know what's coming."

Obi Wan didn't look happy. "That leaves too much to chance. If the damage is discovered, they will have ample time to make repairs. And who is to say Dooku isn't sending a fleet through here as we speak? We can't gamble on a storm hitting soon enough."

Anakin frowned. "Well, then…it's the repulsors."

"What? Anakin, are you completely mad?"

The young Jedi lifted one shoulder diffidently. "It would be like scuttling a boat. Whole station will fall in to the planet's core. Hopefully we'll have time to get to the ship and get off."

"And how do you propose destroying the repulsors? They'll be ray shielded."

"Yes," Anakin corrected his friend. "But not the support struts. We'll just carve them off. Little bit of a hack job, but we can't do _everything_ with style."

"You suggest that we balance on the support beams underneath this station, in gale force winds, and carve through triple compressed durasteel columns with our sabers?"

"Yup, that's pretty much the plan."

Obi Wan sighed and pressed his mouth shut in a narrow line. "You are completely mad."

"Come on, then," Anakin called, already dashing down the adjacent corridor.

* * *

><p>The smuggler's hatch cracked open again. In the narrow aperture of light, the prospector could see two metallic pairs of legs, terminating in flat splayed feet. They stood immobile, outside the cockpit entance, waiting for the Jedi to return. Painstakingly, the old man pushed the long barrel of his rifle out the opening and took aim at the right-hand droid. Squinting down its length, his finger tightened on the trigger. The droid's head appeared between the cross hairs…<p>

With a loud sizzle of plasma, the bolt passed clean through the droid's processors and out the other side, slamming into the bulkhead behind and leaving a dark scar. The prospector dropped the hatch shut again as the droid's slumped to the deck, malfunctioning. Its compatriot's footsteps could be heard, rushing down the deck toward the aft boarding ramp. They passed over the smuggler's hatch and then doubled back in confusion, hesitating. Then it went forward ot the cockpit.

"Hey, _ugly!"_ the old man shouted, popping the hatch open and letting loose with the second barrel. The droid spun about alarmingly fast and returned fire, but the hatch cover saved the miner from destruction. The shot ricocheted off the special reinforced material and bounced back into the assaulter's chestplate. The prospector himself finished off the staggering automaton with a double blast and grinned ferociously to himself.

"Not bad for an old timer," he chuckled triumphant;y, climbing stiffly out of the recess in the deck. He gave the body of the first droid a good solid kick, just to be sure, and then shoved the second one off Betsy's console. It clattered to the floor with a satisfying shower of sparks.

There was a troop of droids scattered through the hangar, guarding each entrance. Not too many, though – not enough to stop him from punching Betsy through the maglev barrier and away to freedom. He still had a chance at survival. The Jedi had been gone at least an hour….now what could be taking them so long?

He fingered the ignition and guidance systems nervously. Self-preservation, that was the rule out here. Don't get involved in other people's business and no harm will come to ye. If those reckless young fools wanted to come out here and get killed, that was their business. He hadn't bargained for droids trespassing on his ship when he agreed to bring them here on their crazy mission. The older Jedi had even _ordered_ him to take off if there was too much trouble.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself.

* * *

><p>The only sure path to the gargantuan repulsor supports was through the lower level maintenance catwalks. Obi Wan and Anakin scuttled down the maze of intersecting ladders and scaffolding as fast as they could, jumping from narrow platform to narrow platform, running along thin rails, leaping down flights of metal stairs in one bound. They dropped the last ten meters straight down into a Force-cushioned landing on the dirty expanse of thrumming composite plastoid which sealed the interior space from the howling winds and gases outside. A huge, heavily sealed hatch set in the floor promised an exit to the lower world, where the mighty repulsor units labored to keep the colossal platform afloat.<p>

"One more level down," Anakin said, striding rapidly toward the trap door.

"Wait!" Obi Wan's eyes narrowed. "Something's not right."

"It's now or never, master! Not a bad feeling – not _now._" He used the Force to unseal and unlock the hatch. The rotating lock swiveled in place and clicked solidly. He leaned down to touch the handle…

And spat out a Huttese curse as a shimmering white haze of radiance surrounded him and Obi Wan.

"Now you've done it," the older man grumbled. "Ray shields."

"Blast it! That's just _unfair!_"

Beside him, Obi Wan frowned and ran a hand over his beard. "They do seem to be one step ahead of us. It's most inconvenient."

"You think that old coot will leave without us?"

"He'd better," Obi Wan replied darkly. "Otherwise I doubt any one of us is getting off this station alive."

Anakin scowled. "Now who's focusing on the negative?"

But in lieu of answer, Obi Wan only jerked his head meaningfully at the upper levels of the maintenance scaffolding, where a tactical droid and a retinue of fifty battle units were descending in a steady line. When the parade reached the deck where the Jedi stood imprisoned behind the shimmering white energy barrier, the tactical unit stepped forward to leer at them with its expressionless face.

"Ha ha ha ha ha," it chortled emotionlessly. "You are trespassing on Confederacy military property, Jedi." It folded its blunt hands neatly in front of itself. "Protocol dictates that I interrogate and then eject all non-authorized personnel immediately."

The battle units spread out in a threatening circle. Back to back, the Jedi gazed round at the welcoming committee. Fifty to two was fair odds, but the ray shields were a minor yet significant obstacle.

"I predicted that you would reach this level fourteen minutes ago," the droid observed. "You are behind schedule."

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Anakin snarled.

"_Must_ you taunt every captor we encounter?" Obi Wan groused.

The droid signalled one of its minions standing near a control panel on the far wall. "Let us not waste any more time," it droned. "I have calculated that your demise will occur in fifteen point six standard minutes."

"Far be it from us to interfere with your busy schedule," Obi Wan quipped.

The droid seemed to share his gallows humor, for its only reply was another flat cackle of glee. "Ha ha ha ha - ha ha ha ha ha."


	6. Chapter 6

**Off the Grid**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

"Let us proceed," TX88 intoned, rubbing its blunt appendages together. "Your purposes in coming here are those of espionage and sabotage. Is this statement correct?"

"You're smarter than you look," Anakin growled.

"That is irrelevant to the question," the tactical unit replied.

"What makes you think we're gonna _answer_ your vaping questions?" the young Jedi scoffed.

"This." TX88 waved a hand at the droid manning the control panel, and a moment later the shimmering cylindrical column of shielding narrowed in diameter, closing in on the prisoners. The Jedi withdrew until their backs pressed together. The ray shields flickered bright and smooth around them on all sides. "I recommend cooperation. As carbon-based organisms, you will find the effects of bodily contact with the energy barrier most detrimental."

"Anakin…." Obi Wan warned.

"What?"

"Have you transmitted coordinates or schematic information to the Republic intelligence network?" TX88 interrupted.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Anakin sneered.

"Yes," the droid said flatly. The ray shields drew in further, until they pulsed a hand's-width from the Jedi's chests. White haze danced before their eyes, entrancing and threatening.

"Anakin!" Obi Wan barked. "…_Negotiation."_

"Have you summoned reinforcements or Republic vessels into this sector or established a homing beacon for remote tracking of this station's location?" the tactical droid continued, unrelenting.

"If we have, " Obi Wan offered, "The information you require will be embedded in our comlinks. You will have to deactivate the shields to obtain them."

"Incorrect," the droid replied. "I can terminate you and then obtain the devices."

"The pulse will completely fry them," Anakin corrected him. "If you want our information, you need to keep those shields away from us."

The droid signaled to his compatriot again, and the deadly energy fields shrank even further, until the shimmering barriers brushed against boot tips, hems of cloth, loose wisps of hair, snapping and sizzling in each place they touched. The Jedi shouted and pressed closer, packed so tightly within the deadly trap that neither could move. Their breath came deep and deliberately slow, exhalations trembling slightly with released pain.

"Answer the questions," TX88 insisted.

"Kill us and you discover nothing," Obi Wan ground out. "Weigh your options carefully."

The tactical unit's motivators whirred. "I calculate that another centimeter's reduction will not cause your death." The barriers shrank an infinitesmal but deadly interval, inflicting instant and terrible punishment in every place they contacted cloth or hair or skin. Bodies pressed rigidly together, arching in pain, the Jedi cried out in unison. The Force smeared into a single vibrant scream of protest.

TX88 waved again, and the barriers returned to their original diameter as the prisoners collapsed onto hands and knees, panting.

"I recommend a recalculation of the risk-benefit ratio for your behavior protocols," the droid said. "The interrogation will recommence in thirty seconds."

* * *

><p>Time dragged by, more and more slowly. And the hangar began to fill up with more and more droids. Boxy ones, skinny ones, some other nasty lookin' models with small conical heads and burly bodies. Most all of them has some kind of weapon in their hands; some of them actually had weapons <em>instead<em> of hands. The miner peered through Betsy's thick viewport in growing discontent.

Eventually one of the taller brutes lifted a metallic hand and pointed in his general direction, whereupon a small gang of the cybernetic thugs began to march toward Betsy's ramp. The old man set his jaw and rubbed one hand over his bristled chin. Twelve aginst one, eh? These Separatist barves weren't men of honor, that much was plain. Jist what you would expect from interferin' government types. He wasn't about to sit here an' git creamed by a bunch of robots.

On the other hand, those two Jedi youngsters hadn't come back yet.

The droids were banging on the closed ramp now, demanding entrance from the two guards posted inside. With a rueful glance down at the mangled circuitry scattered across Betsy's deck, the old man made his decision. He powered up the tug's drives, lifted her a meter into the air and turned her in a lumbering circle around the bay, knocking down several dozen unfortunate droids as her heavy hull careened awkwardly about. The maglev barrier was straight ahead. He saw the droids running for a control panel and didn't wait to find out what came next. Slamming Betsy's accelerators to full, he charged straight through the energy field, sending a shower of sparks and confetti trails of disrupted ions dancing in his wake. And he dropped immediately, deep, deep into the thickest soup, where he knew from long decades of experience that not even the best automated scanners could ever find him.

Keep a low profile and mind yer own business, that's what he said. And that's what he was gonna do.

* * *

><p>The Jedi staggered upright.<p>

"Now," TX88 continued in its bland synthesized tones, "I recommend that you provide succinct and accurate answers to my questions."

"Yes, that does seem to be the only reasonable choice," Obi Wan answered, nudging Anakin in the side with his elbow.

"Yeah, you're right," the younger man grinned. "We've completely changed our minds and decided to cooperate." He stepped on his friend's right toe.

"That is a correct estimation of the behavioral differential factor," the droid agreed. Anakin pulled on his left ear and Obi Wan cleared his throat dramatically. "Cooperation will minimize the discomfort of your impending termination."

The Jedi tensed. "Well…."Anakin smiled, ferociously, "That kinda depends on your point of view."

They acted as one. Anakin's Force-push sent the droid near the shield controls slamming head first into the panel in an explosion of sparks; the shimmering haze around them flickered, for the briefest instant – just enough for the Jedi to roll clear of its diameter in a single coordinated dive; in the next heartbeat, Obi Wan had wrenched the floor hatch off its hinges and flung the spinning metal disk across the room toward the tactical unit.

Ducking, and missing destruction by a centimeter, TX88 pointed an arm at the escaping Jedi. "Kill them!" he ordered. All fifty of his companions opened fire as the Jedi dropped through the hatch opening onto the repulsor housing level below. They ran clanking for the trap door and peered down.

"Snipers to the lower level," TX88 ordered, gazing coldly into the howling vortex of wind and intersecting beams.

Far below, where the Jedi were now precariously balanced, a narrow walkway surrounded the huge circular hole through which the suspended repulsor units could be seen. A main support hub descended below the station, encircled like a wheel by eight separate class five repulsorlifts. Each enormous conical unit operated independently, countering the pull of the gas giant's gravitational field. Together they created a highly stable network of support, a bubble of weightlessness on which the entire platform rested tranquilly as a waterbird atop the ocean's surface.

Sniper units hurried down through the hatch and onto the walkway, even as the Jedi dropped over its edge, landing lightly and without concern on the open grid overlooking the drop into an endless abyss. TX88's forces opened fire at once, sending down a hailstorm of deadly plasma bolts at their exposed foes.

Back to back once again, ObiWan and Anakin deflected fire. Bolts grazed past them, bounced off their blades, slammed into the grid at their feet, flew past their ears, singed their tunics. But somehow, impossibly, not one found its mark. The two blue sabers moved continuously, in a wild synchrony, howling louder than the wind as they seared the very air, as the blades left a hot effluvia in their frantic wake. One false move, one moment of hesitation would mean the end, and a sudden drop into the soft and bottomless pit. Teeth gritted, saber blades flashing at an incalculable desperate speed, they defended themselves against attack from all positions.

The droids stopped momentarily at TX88's command.

Panting, leaning against each other, sabers high and in guard position, the Jedi waited. The tactical unit leaned in over the opening high above. "Ah," this individual gloated. "Now you see the superiority of my programming to yours. You were incorrect to think that you could escape. Organics cannot outcalculate me in a game of strategy."

Anakin's temper flared. "No?" he challenged the arrogant droid above.

"No," it assured him. "My calculations do not admit of fatal errors."

"You forgot to calculate for _this,_" the young Jedi snarled. He held up his free hand, seized the droid with the Force and pulled it down through the hatch and toward himself with great violence, letting loose a shout of rage as he impaled the thing on his saber's blade and then kicked it off. The droid emitted what sounded disturbingly like a moaning scream as it twisted and fell through the open fretwork, plummeting into the bottomless sea of gas below.

"Anakin!" Almost too late, Obi Wan seized his former apprentice and leapt after the plummeting droid- a split second before the next barrage of laser fire splintered the grid to pieces. The droids on the surrounding catwalk sent everything they had after the falling Jedi, blasting down a deadly hail of bolts.

They fell, twisting in midair and reaching through the Force to change direction. With a jolt, they landed on one of the support beams positioning the central hub's conical apex. Down here, among the repulsors, the sound was deafening. The very air shook with terrible reverbrations and set their teeth on edge. The gases swirled, making them cough and wheeze. The Jedi half-crouched, balancing on the curving strut, while the wind howled and the repulsors thrummed.

Overhead, the droids still targeted them, sending packets of plasma their way, hoping to at least knock them over the edge into oblivion. Obi Wan deflected the shots, swaying dangerously on the beam with each new impact. After a few minutes, the droids retreated – which could not possibly herald anything good.

"They'll send reinforcements!" he warned.

"Now what?" Anakin shouted over the din, choking on the semi-poisonous air.

Obi Wan grimaced and looked down into the toxic sea of gas below. "Cut the repulsor supports!" he yelled. "It's the only way."

He felt Anakin's surge of courage and determination. They sliced through the strut together, using their sabers to separate the generator from its mooring. The giant shaft sheared away and ripped apart, falling frOm beneath their feet as they leapt to the next spoke of the wheel. Overhead, alarms shrilled. A black shape appeared in the swirling gas – a vulture droid, red sensors gleaming wickedly. It wheeled round in the obscuring fog and fIred at them. Jumping to avoid the blast, they landed on the next beam. The vulture's powerful cannon destroyed the strut on which they stood, sending yet another repulsor drive tumbling into the depths.

They buried their sabers in the next spoke, carving through its upper half. The vulture swooped back in again, blasting at them and ripping apart the beam. They somersaulted through the air to safety on another support, sliding and then grabbing at it with hands and legs as the repulsor network stuttered and the hub began to dangle at a crazed angle, metal shrieking in awful cacophony as it was torn asunder. The entire platform above careened and shifted to one side. More alarms sounded in the increasing gloom, and battle droids tumbled out of the suddenly tilting opening like marbles shaken out of a jar.

"Going _down_!" Anakin shouted, his Force presence alight with an almost mad intensity. The two Jedi scrambled upright on the slanting beam and plunged their sabers into it as one, carving a jagged scar in its surface. The central hub slowly ripped free of its supports and bobbed to the side; the four remaining repulsors whined and began to howl with the effort as their main stabilizing unit lost its bearings in space; the refueling station began to fall, slowly, majestically, down into fathomless destruction.

The vulture droid lost all patience. It turned and made another strafing run, not firing at its targets so much as driving directly at them in a frenzied killing dive. The Jedi leapt up, onto its back as it screamed past, and sheared off its wing nacelles, crying out together with effort and the explosive power of the Force.

And then they fell – headlong, though nothingness.

Time, seeming to slow in the Force, spun out in a dizzying spiral. The refueling station picked up speed, sinking inevitably toward the center of the gas giant in a long wailing swan dive. The vulture droid's body tumbled away, whipped sideways on a violent gust of wind. Its two severed wings spun and flew in opposite directions, and the Jedi themselves were plucked and tossed on the rushing air.

Obi Wan tumbled, falling for three astonished heartbeats, flipping off his saber's power and clipping it to his belt in a breathless daze, then drawing in a burning breath of tainted air and reaching out for Anakin as thousands upon thousands of meters opened below them in a sickening swoop of speed. His arm brushed against Anakins' sleeve, and the young Jedi grabbed his hand. They locked arms, straightened their limbs and splayed themselves horizontally in a sky-dive.

The refueling station fell alongside them, sirens and alarms sounding a panicked lament as it plunged ever downward. Soon, dark shapes appeared around them, below them, above them, looming out of the colored opaque clouds: other wrecked mining platforms. They were in another pocket of breathable atmosphere, one littered with the remnants of abandoned equipment.

A bright, blinding surge in the Force was his only warning. Anakin suddenly seized him by the shoulder, wrenching the joint and sending him rolling in midair over the younger man's back. On purest reflex he grabbed Anakin about the chest and held on for dear life, as the reckless young Knight reached out both hands and used the Force to summon something huge and metallic into his grasp. It was the metallic shell of the vulture droid's wing nacelle.

"Hang on!" Anakin screamed, though the roaring wind and the howling speed of their descent whipped the sound away.

A terrible jolt as Anakin twisted the metal wing into position ….and then they were sky-sailing, Anakin holding the leading edge fo the wing, Obi Wan holding onto Anakin, and both of them using the Force to hold the flimsy piece of durasteel steady in the maelstrom, to direct their careening, wild flight through the gold and pink skies of the gas planet.

They soared and looped and swerved, watching Dooku's secret outpost in the Triburon fall to its doom. Anakin pointed them toward one of the smaller floating wrecks which dotted the veiled sky.

Obi Wan's feet found the top of the small platform first; the improvised sail's impetus nearly carried Anakin over the edge before he let go. He released it, slid awkwardly over the precipice, and grabbed his friend's outstretched hand at the last moment, to be pulled to relative safety.

Exhausted, the two of them sprawled on the wide top deck of the abandoned platform, alone in the endless wasteland of colored clouds.


	7. Chapter 7

**Off the Grid**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"We fixed _that,"_ Anakin grinned fiercely, lying winded on his back atop the slowly drifting platform.

Beside him, Obi Wan chuckled humorlessly and promptly coughed on the tainted air. "We also seem to have fixed ourselves, my friend."

Anakin rolled onto hands and knees, coughing himself now, and peered over the edge into the endless banks of orange and pink gas, rolling away in all directions. They were utterly stranded. "I could…maybe look at this thing's repulsors. Rig them to move us around a bit."

Obi Wan sighed. "To where, pray tell?"

Oh. Good point. The young Jedi sat and looked at his mentor. The grim realization of their fate took some of the elation out of their victory. "Well….it beats falling into the planet core," he offered, with a brave attempt at cheerfulness.

Obi Wan suppressed a shudder. "True."

Silence, and then another fit of coughing. They wheezed in the poisonous air, eyes watering. "_Boshuda_," Anakin muttered. "Should have been carrying rebreathers. This mess is _toxic._ Think it's hallucinogenic like that old geezer said?"

Obi Wan stared thoughtfully into the formless clouds around them. "Perhaps," he admitted. "We can deal with that , for a while."

"You mean until we pass out from the poisoning."

Obi Wan shrugged, crossed his arms. His gaze tracked away into the far distance, introspectively. "You know, I have always suspected that one of your reckless stunts would be the death of me – but now that it's happened, I find I can't blame you at all."

Anakn fought down rage and frustration. This wasn't right! "At least Dooku's station is destroyed. We saved the Mid Rim."

"Yes, there is that." Obi Wan nodded in satisfaction. They had accomplished their mission.

They sat back to back, reaching into the Force….out of habit, or for comfort, Anakin couldn't say. He had honestly always imagined himself going out in a blaze of glory, not in this quiet, contemplative fashion. He had always imagined dying alongside Obi Wan, but not like this. Not just….waiting. There _had_ to be something they could do. A solution would present itself, right? The Force was with them. There was nothing to fear.

But as the long minutes stretched into an hour or more, and the throbbing headache and nausea increased their hold, until their bodies were aching and pounding with the ill effects of the noxious atmosphere, Anakin found that not even Obi Wan's serene, reassuring presence was enough to quell the rising tide of fear. _Padme. I'll never see her again. I can't go like this. I have to be with her once more….touch her…hold her…_

Behind him, leaning against him, Obi Wan stirred. "Mind your thoughts," he reprimanded hoarsely, some of their old teacher-student relationship resurfacing. "It's the compounds in the air, I know – but those images in your mind…:"

"Sorry," Anakin muttered hastily, feeling heat rise to his clammy face. An angry retort formed itself on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't have the strength left to bicker.

Soon enough the clouds transformed into nightmarish shapes, into vivid siren-songs. In the Force, they were nothing but vapor; but in the realm of sensation they twisted into a thousand illusions and shadows. "Master…"

"It's not real," Obi Wan told him. "Focus, Anakin. The Force."

He tried to focus. Stay in the Force. Don't even look, don't think. And yet he could not quite tear his eyes away from the shifting panoply of dreams, of desire and fear, of dread and longing…

Wait a moment.

"Is _that_ a hallucination?" he asked, suddenly pointing to the left at a dark silhouette seeming to approach them through the colored mist. Obi Wan turned with him, panting, and stared at the strange apparition, waiting wordlessly as it drew nearer and nearer…

It was no illusion. Against all likelihood, it was none other than Betsy, the old mining tug, piloted by her redoubtable owner.

"There you are!" the prospector called to them through an external comm. system. "I've bin lookin' fer you two boys for more'n an hour! Git yer silly asses on board!"

Stumbling upright as Betsy wheeled in place and lowered her aft boarding ramp, the two Jedi managed a giddy, much-relieved leap into the hatch and the safety of the priceless, peerless, ever-reliable Betsy.

* * *

><p>The occasion called for some celebration, in the old miner's opinion. He shepherded his Jedi guests back into the confines of his simple home, after tucking Betsy into the barn for the night, and dug out the remainder of the Moonshine. He hadn't had an adventure like that in twenty years, by his reckoning, and thought the boys might want to kick up their heels a bit.<p>

"Here, now, and I ain't takin' no fer an answer this time," he ordered shoving glasses of the potent concoction into their weary hands. "A toast. To wit an grit. The only real solution to tyranny and oppression." He drained his cup.

The Jedi cooperated, though with less enthusiasm.

"You two done gone an' breathed that chizzk in fer too long, I'd reckin," he observed, studying them with a knowing eye. They looked right bedraggled, slumped there on his bench. "Now, I got me an old folk remedy here somewhere…" He rummaged hopefully in a cupboard.

"No…no thank you," his guests responded, with an inexplicable urgency.

"Huh. Well, suit yerselves, Jedi. You jist make yerselves comfortable there on the floor, anywhere ye like. Sleep it off, that's the best thing. I won't even make ye work to pay me fer the privilege o' stayin' here under my roof another night."

"Thank you for your hospitality," the older Jedi murmured, looking like he might topple over if he weren't so dadgummed polite.

The old man nodded. "I reckon you done me a good turn by sinkin' that infernal droid-station out there. Couldn't a come to anything good."

"You can be sure of that," the dark-haired younger one agreed.

"Lemme scrounge up you two boys some blankets here," the prospector said, disappearing into his small storage closet and digging among the spare parts and emergency supplies for a few minutes.

But by the time he re-emerged, he found his guests already curled up on the floor, sound asleep.

"I'll be danged," he muttered, tossing the ratty blankets over them. With a shake of the head, he settled back into his chair and poured himself another large glass of Moonshine. Who woulda thought? When all was said and done, he kinda liked the pair of 'em.

* * *

><p>The old homesteader woke early the next morning – early according to his chronometer, which marked the changeless passage of time here in the Triburon asteroid field – only to find his Jedi visitors already prepared to depart. The two burbling astromech units were moored in their wing sockets, and the new-fangled starfighters stood ready for flight, drives on standby.<p>

"Well, I'm guessin' I'll never be seein' you two characters agin, " he addressed the Jedi as they stood beside their ships.

"That does seem unlikely if you remain out here," Obi Wan acknowledged.

"Leave here? Now _that_ seems unlikely," the miner answered. "Not with yer Core worlds all mixed up in some rotten politician's war. I tell ye: ye may think I'm a lonely old madman, but time may come when ye'll wish ye could lead a lonely life off the grid yerself."

"No thanks," Anakin shuddered. "That doesn't suit me."

"Whatever ye say, youngster. An' remember yer promise ye made to me yesterday on the way back, now. You Jedi is supposed to be people of honor."

"We will honor your request," Obi Wan reassured him. "No word of your existence will ever reach the Galactic Franchise Tax Board. I promise."

The old man nodded a few times. "Live free or die," he declared.

"Or die that others may live free?" Obi Wan suggested gently.

The miner scoffed and spat. "Get off with ye, now. Yer idealism is jist gonna get you killed, Jedi. Now, you done me a favor, got some information, and left another mess out there near Aurek 29. It's high time you got home an' left me here in peace."

"We couldn't agree more," Anakin told him, stepping up onto his fighter's wing and into the cockpit.

"May the Force be with you," Obi Wan bid the old man farewell.

"Whatever, now," the miner shrugged. "You take care o yerselves, too."

R2D2 whined and whistled his goodbyes as the old curmudgeon opened the airlock and the two Deltas arced away into the asteroid field, heading to their waiting hyperdrive rings and the homeward journey. Their work was done.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

Count Dooku of Serreno received the stunning news on the bridge of his CIS flagship. Two of his cruisers were stranded mid-jump in te Triburon sector; there was no sign of the secret refueling station.

With a soft, elegant gesture he pulled up the last report logged by TX88, the tactical droid assigned to the station. Nothing of any consequence in the droid's comments. Closing his eyes and reaching into the Dark, into its power and strength, he sought to feel out what had transpired. The destruction of his secret facility burned through the Dark like an open wound – and worse yet, the searing after-effect of the Jedi's presence left an unpleasant rift in the Dark's smooth surface, a scar across cold polished marble.

Skywalker and Kenobi. Again.

Red anger welled up and set the darkness into black fire. They would both have to be destroyed, no matter what Lord Sidious wished in the matter. Dooku swore it for the hundredth time. He clenched his long fingers into a fist and stared coldly into empty space beyond the viewport. Someday, someday, he would have his revenge.

* * *

><p>"Well?"<p>

"It was nothing, my love. Just a standard recon mission. I even had some spare time to go sky-sailing."

Padme Amidala's eyebrows drew together in stern disapproval. "Don't you take enough chances already? You don't have to add to the danger by taking unnecessary risks just for a thrill."

"I don't believe in chance," Anakin replied.

"Are you willing to take a _chance_ that I'll be angry with you?" she retorted, hotly.

But she received no spoken reply, and the argument was soon forgotten in light of other, more distracting, occupations.

* * *

><p>Dexter Jettster wiped off the tabletop and sat down across from his friend. "Sure ya won't have a bite to eat?"<p>

"No, no thank you, Dex – though I must tell you that those sliders you sent for Anakin's Padawan made quite the impression."

The Besalisk bared his sharp teeth in an eager smile. "So I'm famous in the Jedi Temple now, am I?" he rumbled.

"Ah…from a certain point of view. Suffice it to say that the Diner may be added to the already lengthy list of distractions forbidden to Padawan learners."

Dex's laughter caused several of the late night customers lingering over their caff to turn and stare in curiosity.

"By the way, I never thanked you for the information you provided about the Triburon miners. Your old friend proved invaluable to our mission."

The Besalisk's throat sack waggled. "Friend? That old grouch? I said I _knew_ him. Surprised 'e didn't shoot ya on sight."

"He almost did. But he also saved Anakin and me at the last moment. We owe him a debt, and by extension so does the Republic. Though I'm sure he would never accept the praise."

Dex shook his head. "Damn right he wouldn't," he agreed. "And the Mid Rim?"

"Safe for now."

"Well, Dex replied quietly. "Tha's all we can ask for ain't it? Safe fer now. Life's good in the moment, and who can ask fer anythin' more, eh?"

Outside, far above the Diner, far above Coruscant's seething urban skyline, somewhere rimward of Shili and nestled between the galaxy's lazily spiraling arms, a small black hole tore a tiny gap in the luminous tapestry of the heavens. But, despite that dark spot, despite whatever portentous meaning it might bear, the light of the stars shone on steadily, bright and pure.

**Finis**


End file.
